A Life In A Moment

by Livos, Stefanos

Lying down, I stared at the ceiling through the darkness. I was happy. Only three days had passed since I ran away from Greece, but nothing of the fracas reached my ears anymore.

  30

  The next morning, when I woke up, Samantha had already left for the pub, sticking to her work schedule for one last week. I stepped out of my room, stumbling into my brother, who was watching TV in the sitting room.

  «Morning.»

  «Morning.»

  «There’s steaming hot coffee. Help yourself and come join me», he said, spread out on the triple sofa.

  I did, sitting opposite him.

  «It’s a beautiful day out there. What do you want to do? Go downtown?»

  I thought about it for a while. «You know what?»

  «I’m all ears.»

  «I want you to take me to where they’re buried.»

  He fretted over this awhile. «Why don’t we leave this for another day?»

  «I’d rather we went today. It will fend off what plagues me inside.»

  He agreed.

  Half an hour later, we reached the cemetery in his blue Vauxhall. Stepping inside the little stone entryway, I followed him all the way to the two tombs.

  «They’re here», he sighed, his head bent, eyes on the ground.

  I stood next to him, silent.

  «What do you feel?»

  «Nothing», I replied sincerely. «I don’t know if I should feel ashamed of myself.»

  «Why should you? You never met them, how can you feel anything?»

  Exactly. I was merely looking at the tombs of two strangers, whose son happened to be my brother. It was as if I had simply sprung up from the earth without any parents. I was a pebble someone gathered from the sea.

  «I remember all the fights when Mum fell pregnant with you», he started telling me. «Every day, there were quarrels and doors that slammed shut with force. There were days they didn’t say a word. Mum wanted to keep you, while he asked her to have an abortion. And then, more shouts and rows and Mum would cry. It was so hard for me. At some point, the rows stopped and I thought Dad had given up.»

  He started speaking like a volcano that after forcing its lava down for ages, in the end erupts. He became burnt by his own flames; I could see it in his eyes — they had turned an angry red.

  «I was so happy when you were born. At last, I had a brother! But they had already made their decision. Actually, Dad made his decision and Mum just obeyed. I don’t know how he managed to convince her. I never asked. When I found out you weren’t coming with us to England, they used the excuse that we were leaving you with Aunt Urania for only a little while, until we had settled in London. Then, one of them would return to get you. I believed them. When they finally revealed that you would be staying with Aunt Urania forever, I hated them. I really did. I despised them. I despised my parents and Aunt Urania for accepting it all. And I despised myself, because they chose me for the simple reason I was older.»

  I wasn’t moved. I had distanced myself from my own life. It seemed as though I heard him telling a story about someone else. Pavlos, though, had tears in his eyes, and I felt terrible about our visit to the cemetery.

  «It’s a pity. We’re two brothers that lived like only children. We missed out on our best years together. Will we ever make up for them?» he wondered.

  We smiled at each other. Two smiles of compassion, promise and faith.

  31

  That night, I went to the pub to help Pavlos and Sylvia.

  «Come on in», he said behind the bar.

  I was hesitant.

  «What are you looking at me for? Come on in. You won’t learn to swim unless you dive in the deep end!»

  At first, I couldn’t move. Ignorance had bound my feet together. As the hours went by, though, I quickly learnt the ropes of bartending and managing the pub.

  He was right. It wasn’t a difficult job, but it required care, speed and a good mood. I was careful, I learnt to work with increasing speed, and, as for the good mood, I could easily slide it on, like a mask, whenever I needed to.

  «You’re doing just fine!» Sylvia told me at some point, working next to me.

  «Thank you», I said and, unconsciously, looked down the length of her legs beneath the short skirt.

  She smiled knowingly, and I realised she’d seen my furtive glance. But even if she hadn’t seen it, any one of her smiles would have seemed sly. The innocence I had discerned when I first met her, was nothing but my intuition’s perception of her pure soul. Her facade, on the other hand, was adorned with pure sensuousness.

  32

  The following mornings I dedicated to seeing London. I was the tourist and Samantha — born and raised in the city — was the guide.

  On the first day, we caught the bus downtown. It was one of those double-deckers and we sat at the top, so I could have a better view. I saw that the initial picture I had formed of the city, based on Hackney, began to change as we neared the centre of London. The buildings seemed to grow bigger and taller, as though inspired by a fairy tale. Were it not for the seas of steel and glass, you would easily travel back in time to the days of Dickens, searching amongst the crowds for Oliver Twist. But now, it was difficult. Dickens’ muddy roads had been paved with asphalt, carts had turned into cars, and men were clad, not in rags, but in outfits by famous brands and chain stores.

  I fell in love with London. There was something magical about it. If you walked away from the crowded main streets, you would discover a small, friendly town with towering buildings. It wasn’t as busy or dirty as many think. On the contrary, there was a strong aura of nature to it, with trees and parks everywhere, fountains and ponds, and of course the Thames, the muddy snake running across the city.

  I spent three wonderful mornings with Samantha. Literally speaking, we wasted away our soles. We walked along South Bank, lay down on the Hyde Park grass, sipped coffee in Covent Garden, strolled around Soho, dazzled by the Piccadilly lights, wandered around Camden’s flea market, squeezed onto the Tube, dimmed our hunger with sandwiches at Trafalgar Square...

  One of the days, after we’d crossed the Thames through Tower Bridge, we had coffee at the little café beneath it, which had once been the coal storeroom for the steam engine which opened the bridge.

  «So, how did you enjoy it?»

  «It’s great!»

  «I’m glad you’re so excited about it. We are too used to it; we take it for granted. Probably, you’ll feel the same way after some years...»

  We discussed many things about London. She talked to me about the history of the city, the fire that broke out in 1666, the Middle Ages, the heyday of the English theatre and the bombings during the War. I listened to her while, outside the window, my imagination ran wild, with flames devouring the city, knights riding their horses, heralds announcing the premiere of Shakespeare’s new play, and planes dropping bombs in the middle of the night.

  To me, London seemed like an imperious old lady who, after many trials and tribulations, sits proudly before her mirror, brushing her long, white hair before she goes to sleep. London could be nothing else but a proud, noble old lady.

  Our words took us to Greece. I spoke to Samantha about how I felt, how distant seemed what had happened a few days before, and how optimistic I was about my new life in London.

  «Samantha...»

  She realised I wanted to say thank you.

  «I feel like I’ve walked into your lives and changed everything.»

  «That’s true. But it’s a pleasant change. That’s why we have to thank you. Especially me.»

  «Why’s that?»

  She smiled. «You couldn’t possibly know but, over the past two years, ever since Paul met you, he’s changed so much. He’s more pleasant, easygoing, calm, more positive. Not that he wasn’t all along, but now... he’s just different. Wonderfully different. And all thanks to you and your finally meeting each other. He wanted it so desperately, that many times he thought he’d just go straight to Greece and t
alk to you in person.»

  «Why didn’t he do it?»

  «He was afraid because he had no idea how you’d react. The risk of being rejected by you terrified him. He had such high hopes. Your aunt was scared about the idea of a reunion as well, so he kept on postponing it.»

  Her words strengthened our bond. I’d known her only for a few days, but already I saw her as my sister, like a second Natalia.

  «Did you really want to stop work or was it because of me?»

  «Are you kidding? I definitely wanted to stop working! It’s been months since I last woke up in the morning and stayed home. With that crazy schedule of ours, I saw Paul only early in the morning or late at night. Or at the pub, but only for a moment. You came and redressed the balance, in a way. So, I should be the one to thank you.»

  I smiled at her an inaudible You’re welcome.

  When we got back from our walk on that third day, I felt another Vassilis trying to enter my body. I surrendered to this new one. He was more relaxed, less scared and more passionate. I put on this new face, in hopes that other people would see it. I thirsted with lust for new encounters and experiences.

  I had always thought I cared only for calm, gentle, beautiful things. London made me realise I actually preferred the noise and rush of the city, the tension of my job and reckless one-night stands.

  It was as if I had opened a chest holding, not a treasure, but boundless freedom. A freeing kind of anarchy against everything and anything. Soon, I would be turning twenty, and I rushed headlong into the life that lay before me.

  33

  That same evening, I arrived at the pub at ten minutes to five. Sylvia had arrived earlier.

  I examined her furtively, walking to the bar. Perched luxuriously atop a tall barstool, she seemed to simply be whiling away the time until we started work.

  The shortness of red skirt lengthened her already long, shapely legs. A crisp, white cotton blouse completed her outfit, three buttons opened to reveal her perfect cleavage.

  «Hi», she said as I sat next to her.

  «Hi, Sylvia. How are you doing?»

  «I’m fine», she said indifferently, crossing her legs.

  I almost blurted out a response the comme il faut Vassilis would have kept to himself. The brand new Bill, though, was different. He had resolved to regret, not what he had done, but what he hadn’t.

  «Nice legs...»

  She seemed surprised. She leant towards me and whispered:

  «You’re too young for such things.»

  «Young? You’re wrong.»

  «Really? Prove it.»

  From that moment, we embarked upon a regular game; a game of provocation and challenges, without rules or a definite purpose. It was an outlet for the pressures at work. We relished it, for the more we played the more we won.

  34

  I began to build my everyday life in London. I would wake up in the morning, have coffee with Samantha, do the shopping we needed, go out for a walk downtown or drop by the pub to sit with Pavlos and Bob. It was the only way we could see one another, with those shifts of ours.

  It didn’t take me long to learn all the secrets of the job and familiarise myself with the customers. Every night, I created a relaxed, enjoyable atmosphere, hoping to live up to my brother’s expectations. I did just fine.

  With Sylvia, more than workmates, we became friends. We spent hours together, and at nights, when the pub emptied out and we finished up our chores, we chatted about everything, even about personal things. She was a free spirit and a free body. Perfect catalysts for our game of chance and challenge.

  One night, egged on by the rowdy crowd, we were led to the shed. Hidden behind the clamour of jibes and jokes, we tore off our clothes, possessed. Forsaking any pretence at tenderness, we broke into each other with dangerous urgency, rocking the bench in the darkness. The night held no emotion for either of us; and it was this very absence of sentiment and attachment that I took most pleasure from.

  Sylvia literally lived her sexuality — raw, urgent, exquisite. She relished sex, whether heartfelt or not. She shared her erotic experiences with such ease, it was like talking about the weather or how she’d spent the day. Shameless and experimental, she requested new moments and reenactments of memorised ones. She was an incredible woman. Beautiful and endlessly, inventively sensuous.

  The actual situation seemed strange when I thought about it, but the nature of our relationship was beautiful. It was honest. We both knew what we wanted from each other and there were no hidden agendas. Within the ten months of our strange affair, I learnt about women more than any other girlfriend would have taught me in ten years.

  «I really value what we have», she confessed one morning, stroking her ample breasts, while we were both lying in bed.

  «Me, too.»

  «I wasn’t impressed with you when you first came to the pub with Paul. You seemed like a little boy...», she said, throwing me that provocative look she never lost.

  I smiled at her slyly. «I am a little boy. Do you want to play with me?» I said, experimenting on how easily I could melt her into surrendering.

  She was right, though. I was a little boy when I first went to London; but, since then, I had matured rapidly. I had shaken off that old inclination of mine to organise the present, and put the future into perspective. London taught me that life cannot be controlled according to lists or agendas. Now, I was a relaxed, carefree guy. I had good friends, occasional lovers and a self that suited me. I was free. I experimented constantly, seeking new experiences and encounters quite fearlessly — though always in moderation.

  It was one of the best, most defining times in my life.

  35

  Four years passed. Four entire years. Much as I had drunk from the glass of life, I hadn’t quite yet managed to slake my thirst for new experiences.

  Twenty-three years old! I thought to myself, looking at the candles on my birthday cake. I smiled. I was living a good life and I was satisfied.

  There was something missing, though...

  I recalled a scene four years before, when I was nearing my first month in England. With a heavy heart, I had picked up the phone to call Natalia and announce my decision to live in London for good.

  After a painful pause, I had heard her mumble:

  «...Why?»

  «Because everything is better here. I’m settled and happy. I’m with my brother, and I work with him at the pub... I’m having a great time, Natalia.»

  «What about here? You weren’t having a good time here?»

  «I was. But now I don’t know if I would, like I used to. I’ve changed. I see things differently now. Do you know what I mean?»

  I tried to explain that it wasn’t an easy decision, and that it might take forever to understand. She would simply have to live with this new situation, and continue living her own life.

  Since then, we stayed in regular contact; I told her about my life, she told me about hers, but neither of us spoke the entire truth. We kept secrets from each other. I held back on what might distress her or anger her. She concealed something which would make me happy. She kept it a secret until she was completely sure of it herself. And then, she called to let me know that her and Thanos were in love.

  I was overjoyed! The night I left Greece, I remember whispering to Thanos Take care of Natalia. I trust only you. He had found the finest way to do it.

  The day-to-day sort of news confirmed that my cousin finished university, Uncle Haralambos kept the bookshop alive, and Aunt Urania, as always, kept both of them on their toes.

  As for Michalis and Ellie, I hadn’t learnt a thing more. Never once did I ask after them; I didn’t care to know. However, once, out of the blue, Natalia mentioned they were still together, leaving me strangely perplexed.

  Still together?

  My initial prediction about their imminent breakup was way off. Michalis was not the bracket in Ellie’s life as I hoped he would be. It was me.

  My mind
wouldn’t let go of this, until it dawned on me that I just didn’t care about it any more. I had become so satisfied with my own life that I wished the same for everyone. Somehow, though, my ears still burned for an apology, for my heart’s sake. Not so much from Ellie, but from Michalis. We were supposed to have been friends. I was determined to wait for his apology for as long as it took.

  My fourth year in London saw Pavlos and Samantha still unmarried, but trying to have a baby. As it was taking too long, they began to realise that either one of them must have had a physical problem. They decided never to learn which one it was. They swore to stick together, even if they never had a baby.

  Watching all of this, I persistently expressed my wish to rent a place of my own so they could have their own breathing space. Possibly because they considered me the child they didn’t have, they always insisted I shouldn’t leave. They couldn’t understand they only delayed the inevitable.

  Just before my twenty-third birthday, I resolved to make the big step. Without telling them, I began my hunt for my own flat. At last, I found a small house at the end of their road, four blocks down.

  It was a corner studio on the second floor, with wide walls of glass, in a fairly new building. The first time I stepped in, I imagined myself sitting on the floor, in the dark, listening to music. I instantly understood that I would spend there the next few years of my life, and easily signed the lease.

  When I announced the news to Pavlos and Samantha, I saw their faces fall with sadness.

  «I don’t know if you think you’re a burden, but you must know you’re not», Samantha told me, looking at Pavlos for his own affirmation.

  «I know, but I have to live alone — and so do you. Anyway, nothing will change, except that I won’t sleep here. We’ll be together all day long», I smiled at them in reassurance.

  Samantha smiled back and suggested helping me with my décor and furniture arrangement. Taking up her offer like a true bachelor, I told her about the bits and pieces I had in mind to buy for the flat.